HAPPY LITTLE PILL
by scottywotsit
Summary: RATED 'T' TO BE SAFE - TELL ME IF THE RATING SHOULD BE CHANGED The official story behind how my humanised versions of Henry and Edward met, what happened to make them the way they are (more focussed on Edward), and how they began their relationship. Based off the Troye Sivan song by the same name. Distressing themes are addressed in this story - read with discretion. Thank you.


**Author's note: Back again. Hi.**

 **Sorry for the radio silence over the last few months, but I had my English exam and coursework submission deadlines for my other two subjects to contend with, and I also hit a rut with my writing. Which brings me onto this. I was going through my notebooks from a month ago (full notebooks, that is), and found this gem of a story. So, I decided to type it up and upload it for your enjoyment. This is officially how Henry and Edward met/will meet in my college AU. (I've spent a few weeks re-jiggying their story, as I wasn't really pleased with the backstories and history I'd come up with for them.)**

 **NOTE: I've set up my Tumblr blog for my humanised AU of Thomas and Friends! You can find it at humanisedttteaf . tumblr . com, though I will add a link to my bio once I get around to properly updating it. I will be uploading this there, but that will most likely be sometime later today, as I'm too tired right now and have to get up in a few hours to go and collect my A level results (joy...).**

 **(Yes, the title and general theme of this story are based on the single by Troye Sivan. I am Troye Sivan trash. Send reinforcements.)**

 **I'm still going to continue _30 Days_ once I've got my mojo back, but, for now, here is the official take on how my humanised versions of Henry and Edward met, and what happened between their first meeting and getting together. Enjoy.**

 **WARNING: Mentions of self-harm, rape, paedophillic abuse, drug abuse and eating disorders. If any of this bothers you greatly, feel free to leave this story now. Otherwise, please read with discretion.**

* * *

Pain. Fear. Disgust. The emotions run through his brain, and he automatically reaches into the cupboard over the bathroom sink for his pill bottle. His hand grasps at nothing, and he begins to panic. "James?!"

His younger brother runs in from the other room, to find him frantically searching the bathroom for his anti-depressants. James' face falls, and he forcefully sits his older brother down on the edge of the bathtub. He perches on the edge of the toilet, staring straight into his brother's eyes. "They stopped your meds, Edward. Remember? Doctor Shima said you don't need to be on anti-depressants anymore."

Edward sees James' lips move, forming words, but nothing reaches his ears – not that it needs to, because he knows what James is going to say already. He stares above James' head, at the spot where his little pill bottle always used to sit. Its absence screams at him. He feels like scratching at his face, his eyes, anything, to feel something, to fill up the hole that has appeared in his life, where he took his happy little pill for granted.

* * *

Three months pass by in a whirlwind of emotion. Edward loses three stone in the first month, skinnier than he's ever been (and he's always been scrawny, it's one of the most notable things he's inherited from his father). In an act of desperation, James sends him to a local support group for addicts after finding him vomiting just half an hour after eating dinner. He doesn't find the secret stash of cocaine, heroin needles and marijuana joints hidden in Edward's room, but he does realise that something is hidden in his brother's room after he discovers Edward sat on the sofa, his eyes glazed over, slowly ploughing his way through a tub of Ben and Jerry's cookie dough ice cream, a peculiar smell hanging around him and a mysterious white dusty substance smeared across his top lip.

The support group is located in an old, disused warehouse. It looks cold and unfeeling from the outside, but inside has been made up to look like a communal living area, almost like the Gryffindor common room from _Harry Potter_. Several sofas are placed haphazardly in a rough circle, sofas of different shapes and sizes (Edward recognises one as a Chesterfield sofa, because he used to have one in his old bedroom at home, in Perth), and a few have footrests situated in front of them. In an old leather armchair sits the group leader, a tall, hulking man (though when he stood up to greet Edward, he was only a couple of inches taller than him), his hair a sandy brown and peppered with grey, a bronze-coloured prosthetic arm lazily stroking the head of a small dog sat at his feet. His name was David Swindon, "but call me Diesel Ten," he had said with a laugh. "Everyone else does." When Edward asked him why that was his nickname, Diesel Ten smiled softly in remembrance. "It's because I used to work with experimental diesel engines in Ukraine many years ago, before I joined the war effort in Iraq."

Edward perches anxiously on one of the sofas, next to a smaller boy who looks as though he would rather be anywhere but there. The boy looks up from beneath his long, black fringe, grunts in distaste, and moves to another sofa on the other side of the circle. Edward sighs, drawing one leg up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Diesel Ten scold the smaller boy for being unkind, and the boy looks slightly guilty. But before he can move back over to his previous seat, another boy sits down next to Edward.

Edward looks at him, and his heart jumps into his throat. This new boy is huge (Edward wagers that he's over six feet tall), with long brown-auburn hair tied back into a messy bun, freckles dotted across his nose (which is uncommonly straight), and deep chocolate coloured eyes that, if they looked at you long enough, would probably be able to read into your soul. His cheekbones are angular and sharp, but the rest of his face has a soft look to it, and Edward notices the Eden Project pin and tee he's wearing under a dark green plaid shirt. He has a scar that splits his hairline just slightly, two loops piercing the shell of his left ear, and two stud earrings in the colour of the LGBT flag. One other pin he's wearing displays the message, _Alcohol free and proud_.

 _He was an alcoholic?_ Edward wonders. But his thoughts are silenced as the boy turns to look at him. It feels like his heart is constricting his airway. _He's beautiful…_ He sees the newcomer's lips move; all Edward can do is stare at him. It's not until the sound of a throat being cleared rouses him from his stupor that he realises he's being spoken to. "Unh?"

The new boy has to hold back a giggle. Edward feels his heart flutter in his throat – though whether it's from nerves or attraction, he doesn't know. The boy holds out his hand, which is large (much larger than Edward's, so much so that his hand is comically dwarfed in comparison), and says quietly, "I'm Henry."

Edward gently grasps the offered hand, and shakes. "Edward." Henry smiles.

"Nice to meet you, Edward."

His heart is definitely fluttering from attraction. _Shit._

* * *

"I didn't realise you smoked," Diesel Ten says in a conversational manner when he finds Edward standing outside the warehouse a few weeks later, passing the time before the next session starts. His dog bounds over and starts yipping around Edward's ankles; the seventeen year old smiles softly at the little Border collie, bending down and gently patting Athena's head. In the last few weeks, the veteran has become a second father of sorts to Edward, and Athena reminds him of his mother's Saint Bernard, Rollo, who died when Edward was six. Diesel Ten leans against the wall, standing next to Edward. "If I'd known that, I'd have asked to join you. Can I borrow your lighter?"

Edward nods, handing the lighter over; his own cigarette now lit, the lighter returned to its owner, Diesel Ten puffs for a few moments. The duo stand in silence, Athena curling up at their feet.

His nicotine supply drained after five minutes, Edward sighs, extinguishes the remainder of his cigarette, and squashes the butt under his boot. He makes to head inside, Athena standing and plodding over to the door, but Diesel Ten's voice stops him.

"Why?"

Edward turns back to the leader of the support group, a small frown creasing his forehead. "Why, what?"

Diesel Ten is silent for a moment, and then asks, "Why did you start smoking? If you don't mind me asking, of course. That and your bulimia can't be the only reasons your brother signed you up for this group."

Like a few weeks ago, when he first met Henry, Edward's heart leaps into his throat – but this time, it's for a completely different reason. It's been nearly a month since Edward felt the need for anti-depressants so strongly, and the beast that serves as a reminder as to why he needed them in the first place rears its ugly head once more. He feels his throat constrict painfully, a lump swelling until he can't speak, can't breathe. His eyes prickle with tears.

Before he knows what's happening, Diesel Ten is bundling him into the building, a concerned look on his face, with Athena whining at his feet. The veteran makes Edward sit down on one of the more comfortable sofas (coincidentally, the one that Henry seems to frequent the most, as there is a noticeable dip on one side), and pats the empty seat; Athena jumps up, and snuggles into Edward's quaking side as her owner bustles about making a pot of chamomile tea.

A cup is pressed into his hands; it shakes in his hold, and tea sloshes over the side onto Edward's lap, but he's too preoccupied by his flashbacks to notice. With another whine, Athena lays her head on his leg, licking the material of his jeans in a comforting manoeuvre, and Diesel Ten pulls a footstool forward, sitting down in front of his charge, his fingers interlaced. Edward finally notices the tea, and takes a shaky sip. Its heat flows through his body, warming his insides and chasing the fearful chill from his chest. The duo don't say a word, but instead just sit, Edward sipping at the tea, Diesel Ten patting his knee comfortingly, Athena still licking the leg of Edward's jeans.

After ten minutes (in which Edward manages to calm himself down considerably and Diesel Ten remains respectfully silent), the veteran looks up at the seventeen year old and asks quietly, "Do you feel better now?" Edward still doesn't speak (though this is now because he has a mouthful of tea), so just nods. It's more like a quick jerk of his head, but Diesel Ten understands him.

"Do you feel comfortable enough to talk about… about _it_?"

Swallowing anxiously, Edward nods again, raising one hand to his face and wiping away his tears. Taking a deep breath, to ready himself for the onslaught of more horrific flashbacks, Edward starts to speak. He tells Diesel Ten about that fateful day when he came out to his parents and siblings, how he felt so warm and loved by those closest to him. He tells the veteran about Blake, how his older cousin took a sudden disturbing interest in him after he came out to his extended family, and how the man forced him into an abusive relationship because of his homophobic self-loathing. He tells Diesel Ten about the day Blake finally lost patience with Edward, and brutally attacked him within his own home when he was fourteen. He tells him about how his brothers Richard and James found him, Blake pinning his weakened body against the desk, and how his parents decided to send him to Sodor because of their improved mental health services. He tells him about being put on anti-depressants a year after moving to the island with James, and how – just over a month ago – his doctor stopped prescribing the medication, thinking he would be fine without them. He hesitates, and then admits that since he's been off of anti-depressants, he's quickly become addicted to drugs like cocaine, just trying to reach that state of happiness and mental well-being that his medication had given him.

When he's finished, Diesel Ten looks like he's about to puke all over himself, horrified at the gruelling story he's just been told. Athena whines again, nudging her nose against Edward's hand and licking his palm; the teenager gently pats the top of her head, sniffling and feeling tears run down his face. Diesel Ten stands, runs his hands through his greying hair, and murmurs, "Jesus _fucking_ Christ…"

"I know." Edward's voice is hoarse and weak, and makes him sound like he's got a head-cold. The veteran looks up at him.

"It's enough to make someone feel like committing suicide. I'm surprised you haven't tried."

Edward hesitates again, and then – without saying a word – pulls the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and exposes the inside of his forearms. Diesel Ten pales, that odd look (like he's about to vomit) coming back over his face. Edward's forearms are a mess of clumsy scars, crossing over themselves. Two thicker scars lie at the bottom of his wrists, just over the prominent lines that mark his arteries. As well as the slim cuts and the clumsier scratches, there are plenty of light dots, where – on many an occasion – Edward has pressed the burning end of his cigarette into his skin, especially when he hasn't had access to any sharp objects with which he could potentially slice open his arms.

Diesel Ten doesn't say anything; he just stares at Edward's forearms until the seventeen year old hides them from view again. The room is silent for a moment; and then, the veteran swears loudly, grabbing an old and chipped coffee mug that no one uses and throwing it with surprising strength and force into the wall. It shatters upon impact. Edward isn't even startled by this display of anger; James had done the exact same thing at the appointment where Doctor Shima had told Edward that he was no longer prescribing him anti-depressants.

The door suddenly creaks open; the duo look up as Henry enters the building cautiously, concern creasing his brow into a frown. His eyes flicker back and forth between the pair, before falling on the shattered remains of the mug. "What… what happened here?" he eventually asks.

Diesel Ten hitches a weary smile onto his face. "Nothing, Henry, nothing. Edward and I just needed to have a little chat." He doesn't miss the fiercely protective look that comes over Henry's face, flashing in his eyes, nor the way that Edward's hand twitches slightly, telling his new friend that he's alright. _These two_ , he thinks, _are an example to us all_.

Edward makes to stand up, but he stumbles, all of a sudden feeling incredibly woozy, almost as though he's drunk. Henry is immediately at his side, supporting him, and Diesel Ten says, "You should go home, Edward. That's not a suggestion," he adds sternly as Edward opens his mouth to retort. "I don't care if you say that you're fine, you need to go home and rest. Henry can help you." Henry nods, smiling weakly at his friend.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Henry immediately asks when he finds Edward, two weeks later, smoking outside the supermarket in Wellsworth. People walking past look scandalised at the idea of some teenager polluting the air around them with filthy smoke from his cigarette, but Edward doesn't notice, or ignores the looks he garners. Instead, he glances up at Henry with a small smile, the cigarette (what Henry teasingly says is Edward's death stick) hanging from his lips. He doesn't say anything, but nods, before extinguishing his cigarette on the top of the bin and throwing the butt away. Henry indicates into the supermarket. "Do you need anything?"

"Nah," Edward replies, "but I don't mind walking around with you. I don't have much to do anyway." Henry nods, smiling at his friend, before holding the door open for him and an old lady who is just leaving. She smiles at him, pats his arm, comments on how he's such a nice boy, and then Henry follows Edward into the shop.

They wander aimlessly through the aisles (or Edward does, at least – Henry has a basket and is grabbing things off the shelves and out of the refrigerator units, ticking off his mental grocery list), not saying anything. Henry glances at Edward, noticing – perhaps for the first time – just how good looking he is. His fair hair is mostly tucked under a crimson beanie (which matches his baggy sweater), but a section of his fringe has escaped the hat and is swept over his forehead. His blue eyes twinkle with intelligence and goodwill, framed by his glasses (though he usually wears contact lenses). He's skinny, too skinny – his sweater and the grey long-sleeved tee he wears under it hang off of him, and his cheeks are slightly hollowed – but in contrast to the rest of his body, his skinny jeans show off Edward's shapely thighs. Henry has to look away when his eyes slide towards Edward's backside – he doesn't want to creep his friend out, though he can't help noticing that, amusingly, Edward's jeans have a small hole next to the right back pocket, so people can see what colour his boxers are (today, they are a pale green). Henry is almost jealous of how tan Edward constantly looks, before remembering that he's half Australian, half South African, and from Arabian descent, so his skin tone is natural. He's too busy noticing the little details about his friend to realise that Edward is also examining him.

Normally, Henry pulls his long hair back into a messy bun, to keep it out of his face, especially when one of the younger boys at the support group, Duncan Barclay, requests that Henry play the piano for them at the end of a meeting; but today, it is unconstrained, hanging around his face and bouncing as if his hair is alive as he walks. The two loops on his ear shine in the light, and the stud earrings he's wearing today (black aces) – though they match his shoes – contrast with his pastel colour scheme. He's wearing light beige chinos, a pastel green shirt and a silvery-grey t-shirt, with his usual black Vans. He's also wearing a long silver chain with a ship's wheel pendant on it (or at least, that's what Edward thought it was at first – now he knows that it's the Buddhist wheel of life symbol), which bounces off his chest with every step. Edward notices, as Henry pulls his phone out of his pocket to check the time, that his phone case has a picture of the Flying Scotsman on the back; and, peering at his phone screen, Edward can see a picture of the island's locomotives is set as Henry's lock screen wallpaper. One new thing Edward notices about Henry are the silver rings he's wearing on his right hand – one on his thumb, another on his ring finger – and the single copper ring that adorns the middle finger of his left hand. Peeking out from the cuffs of his shirt, two friendship bracelets are revealed, and Edward smiles; he can remember a time when he would make friendship bracelets all the time – not to give to people, but to keep himself busy when he had nothing to do.

The two teenagers glance at each other, and grin meekly; subconsciously, they both know that they were checking each other out, but Edward still hasn't revealed to Henry that he is gay, because if he does, to him it means that his feelings for Henry – the feelings that began to develop when Henry sat down next to him at his first session with the support group – are real, real and validated and he is terrified that everything will go horribly wrong, that his past will haunt him forever and make him a boyfriend unworthy of love.

"We should totally do this again," Henry muses as they wander out of the supermarket, Edward humming in agreement as he pops a mint into his mouth. The taller teen goes to wrap his arm around Edward's shoulder, but then he remembers that the older boy next to him is not big on touch, that he's frightened of personal contact with another human that isn't his brother. So, instead, he settles for a grin and gently pats Edward's back, feeling bad as Edward's back and shoulders tense anxiously. He doesn't realise that Edward's back is tensing, not from nerves, but from suppression of his feelings.

* * *

One week later, the duo are back in the warehouse for another meeting with the support group; this time, Edward decides to move and sit on the same sofa as Henry (out of the corner of his eye, he sees Diesel Ten give him an encouraging nod and smile) – Henry is surprised, but smiles at the older teen, and stretches one arm over the back of the sofa. They sit in the same spot for the entire session, even though some of the more immature teens (namely Duncan, Diesel Gronk and Harry Iron) snigger and give Edward coy looks – Edward ignores them as best he can, but it takes Henry glaring at them and Diesel Ten giving them a pointed look to make them stop.

As the session draws to a close, Edward sees Duncan approach himself and Henry, who is waiting to get a lift back to Tidmouth from his dad. The Scottish boy stops in front of them, about three feet away, wringing his hands in front of him. "I'm sorry I was laughing," he mumbled. "I guess my mind just ran away with me."

Automatically, Edward's shoulders tense at what Duncan is insinuating, but he knows that he's had dreams of the exact same thing happening, in the twilight time between the end of dusk and the beginning of dawn. He sees Henry's jaw tighten – he's clenching his teeth together to stop himself from retorting too angrily – and so he says quietly, "That's alright, Duncan. Happens to the best of us." Duncan smiles timidly, and then requests for Henry to play the piano again. The tallest teen purposefully deliberates for a moment, tapping his chin thoughtfully, before agreeing to play one song.

He cracks his fingers once he's sat at the piano, thinking for a moment, deciding on a song to play. One of the newer members of the group, Belle Riddles, giggles and leans over, whispering something in Henry's ear. Immediately, Edward feels a fiery blast of jealousy flare up within his chest, and the creature that caused it growls possessively; Edward struggles to hold back a snigger as Henry makes it clear he's not interested by shifting on the bench, away from Belle. He can feel Diesel Ten's curious gaze boring into the side of his head, and so he coughs awkwardly, shifting his position on the sofa as Henry begins to play.

* * *

"Hey," Henry says quietly, two months later, greeting Edward with a smile as the older teen approaches him in the park. It's almost dark; Edward feels anxious, a feeling that is not lessened even when the street lamps flicker on and cast orange light onto the ground. The two teens look at each other, Henry raising an inquisitive eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Edward doesn't say anything, he just stands next to Henry, looking around nervously. Henry frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Edward quickly answers, but he doesn't smile, and his voice wobbles. Henry turns to his friend, now thoroughly concerned.

"Edward, are you sure you're okay?"

"I need your help." Edward still doesn't look up at him, but he's wringing his hands nervously, and, for the first time, Henry notices how red his eyes are, the deep purple bags under his eyes, and the rucksack that seems to be struggling to stay closed. His hair is limp and messy, his clothes rumpled. Henry gently grabs Edward's shoulders, turning his friend to face him.

"What do you need me to do?"

Edward looks down at his feet, and shrugs off the rucksack. It lands on the ground, and the zipper finally gives way; it bursts open, and Henry is astonished at the sight that greets him. The bag is crammed full of packs of weed, cocaine and heroin needles, as well as several large bottles marked with clumsy hand-drawn labels that read _moonshine_. Henry looks at Edward, and Edward stares back at him. They don't exchange any words, but Henry knows immediately what Edward is insinuating. He crouches down, and rearranges the bags contents slightly so that it stays closed, before straightening up and shouldering it himself. He nods at Edward, who smiles at him gratefully; then, the two part ways.

* * *

In a week, Edward switches the TV on, and the first channel that appears is the breakfast news. Five minutes later, a grin spreads over his face, even though he looks very much the worse for wear (withdrawal has hit him hard, despite having been gradually weaning himself off of drugs for about two months with James and Diesel Ten's help). _It's done. It's all gone._

* * *

For once, Henry is the first to arrive at the support group's warehouse. He stands outside, waiting for Diesel Ten to arrive and unlock the building, listening to his music, until footsteps approach him. He glances up, and smiles at Edward. His friend does look a little ragged still, but his withdrawal symptoms are beginning to die down very slowly; today, at any rate, Edward doesn't look like he's just been dragged through a hedge backwards upon getting out of bed.

Edward stops just in front of him, hesitates, and then initiates a hug; Henry is surprised, but welcomes the affection, slowly – anxiously – wrapping his arms around the older teen and hugging him back. Edward sighs, pressing his forehead against Henry's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispers.

"What for?"

"For being a great friend. For being there for me in a way that no one else could."

Henry can feel a lump forming in his throat; he's getting emotional, and so he leans down, resting his own forehead on Edward's shoulder, trying to hold back his tears.

 _If only you knew how I really feel…_ he thinks sadly, not realising that Edward already knows. Edward looks up, staring into Henry's eyes, and smiles. Henry's brow creases slightly in confusion. "Edward–"

Edward smiles, cups Henry's face with his free hand, and leans up, presses his lips to Henry's in a chaste kiss. For a moment, Henry is frozen in place. _This isn't happening, this isn't happening, it's just a stupid dream_ – But Edward's scent, and the sensation of their lips moving together, and even the feeling of Edward's chapped lips from where he bites them all the time – they're all too real. Edward's fingers interlacing with his, the minty taste to his breath, Edward's other hand resting on his chest, just over his heart – Henry gasps in surprise, and then finally responds, his eyes sliding shut. One of his hands settles on Edward's waist, creeping around towards the small of his back, while the other gently squeezes his fingers. He can't quite believe that his fantasies, his dreams, are coming true – after months of slowly making progress, Edward is finally comfortable enough to initiate human contact. And it feels so good.

It's their happy little pill.

* * *

 **Please read and review. It would mean a lot to me to see some positive/constructive criticism that will help me improve my writing. Thank you.**

 **-the Author.**


End file.
